


the world keeps spinning

by ewagan



Category: Prince of Stride: Alternative (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewagan/pseuds/ewagan
Summary: This is how he remembers Tomoe: soft laughter and a softer smile, falling asleep in the middle of movies, a comfortable weight against Heath’s shoulder, the smell of summer, of sunshine.





	the world keeps spinning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themorninglark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/gifts).



> for more tenderly bruising feelings, and because i was halfway through this before i ended up with the akakuro
> 
> written as part of SASO '17, courtesy of lark's tenderly bruising playlist.

Tomoe is everywhere, except for here. Heath sees him in magazines, on billboards, on television. It’s not as if Heath isn’t on his own share of billboards, not when Diane has him modelling for her full-time. But it’s not himself Heath is looking at, amidst all the bright lights and skyscrapers.

It’s all familiar, and terribly foreign at the same time. He doesn’t know this Tomoe, all hooded eyes and brooding expression, hard edges that looked sharp enough to cut. The Tomoe he remembers was hardly prone to smiling, but he’d been softer, more real in his imperfections.

But it has been years since he last saw Tomoe; not since that summer, bright and blinding in its perfection. He remembers connecting with Kyousuke again, the elation of winning End of Summer, Tomoe’s smile and how his breath had caught his his chest, the lingering memory of another time. He’d been certain then that he could have everything he wanted, if only he reached out to grasp it.

This is how he remembers Tomoe: soft laughter and a softer smile, falling asleep in the middle of movies, a comfortable weight against Heath’s shoulder, the smell of summer, of sunshine. He was early morning runs, breathless kisses under streetlights, the lingering taste of the oranges he’d loved, always ready to run, to go, to leave. He’d never known how to be another way, but he’d tried for Heath. 

They’d promised so many things, then. Promises, blown away by time and wind, like the footsteps they left behind. They had both meant them at that time, but forever wasn’t something they could guarantee. Love didn’t always work because you wanted it to, even if you wanted it desperately. In the end, he’d given Tomoe up, and Tomoe too, had let him go.

“Heath.” It’s as if thinking about Tomoe had summoned him, and here he was, dark hair and dark eyes, like something plucked from Heath’s fondest memories of him, so vastly different from all those photos Heath sees plastered across cities.

“Tomoe.” The name tastes achingly familiar on his lips, and Tomoe smiles at him, just the way Heath remembers.

They wind up in a park, walking around the track, shoulders bumping comfortably as they talked about insignificant things. They used to do this, sometimes. Heath still remembers plucking stray leaves and flowers petals out of Tomoe’s hair, and the way Tomoe had smiled at him, as if it was all he could want. It hadn’t been, but it doesn’t stop lingering in Heath’s mind, a memory perfect in its nostalgia, preserved with love. Something from when they’d started, and something he’d kept. It makes him wonder how Tomoe remembers him, if his own memories are as rosy as Heath’s own.

“I see you everywhere, these days.” Tomoe comments. “Every billboard, every time I step into one of Diane’s shops.” Heath chuckles sheepishly, but Tomoe’s smile is fond. “You look well.”

“You too.” Tomoe looks more than well, next to Heath. He wants to say Tomoe looks more than well, that growing up’s suited Tomoe, smoothed away the awkwardness of youth and gave him a surety he had lacked in their younger years. But the words catch in his throat, and all he can do is smile at Tomoe. “I’m glad you’re doing well.” is what he says instead, and Tomoe just smiles.

“I’ve been fortunate, I suppose.” Tomoe looks oddly wistful. It’s been so long, but Heath still wants to reach out to see if Tomoe’s face still fits in the curve of his hand just so, to smooth out the little wrinkle of concern. He doesn’t think he’s quite over Tomoe, not really. But Tomoe had always been special, so maybe he’ll never really be over Tomoe. Heath has learned to let go and move on, even if seeing Tomoe now makes him ache for what they could have been.

At the end of their walk, Tomoe’s smiling at him and Heath can feel something in his chest stutter, familiar and forgotten. “Catch me up the next time we’re in the same city?” Heath asks. And Tomoe laughs, his hand reaching out for Heath’s, familiar, still so familiar.

“Yeah. I will.” There’s a light squeeze, then Tomoe disappears into the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated. c:
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ewagan).


End file.
